Reflections from David

This is a beautiful and heartbreaking piece written by my beloved partner, David Grimsley who has spent much of the past few weeks in the NC mountains after they were ravaged by Hurricane Helene:

Apocalypse is an interesting word. Despite the somatic feelings and dramatic bleak landscape imagery it might invoke, the direct Greek meaning is: "something uncovered/revealed." Appalachia is like a womb. If you look up the safest places in the country to live, these ancient mountains are at the top of the list; no major seismic activity, little tornado action, relatively cool summers and mild winters, and far enough away from the coast that there aren't hurricanes. This is a safe haven that, despite all my travels to incredible places around the world, Appalachia always called me back. 

People who live here, especially in southern Appalachia, know that if state lines were drawn by culture, Appalachia would stretch across Northern GA, Northwest SC, WNC, East TN, SWVA, Eastern KY and WV. Though technology and progress evolve, there is a timelessness to these mountains that holds dearly to cultural traditions, music, and self-reliance. The people who move to these mountains or vacation here do so to slow down and breathe the sweet mountain air. People that grew up here and leave, often return to raise their families. 

That's the plan: we live in Appalachia because it's relatively stable and safe. However, "Everybody's got a plan, until they get punched in the face," Iron Mike once said. It's no wonder that when a friend and I arrived October 1, with a load of chainsaws, fuel, food, and water, even the authorities we met were still in shock. 

Helene struck Appalachia Friday, September 27. Four days later, only a hand full of shelters had been established in Western NC, and most roads were still impassible. It took us 7 hours to drive, what would normally take 3 hours from Floyd, VA into the South Toe area of Yancy County to check on my in-laws. No traffic to speak of, just obstacles and road closures rerouting us throughout the trip. As night was coming on quickly, we knew we needed to get to our destination as soon as possible, with broken powerlines, washed out roads, mudslides, and splintered, fallen trees becoming harder to see. Thankfully, we found my family, having dinner by candlelight behind their house, in what seemed like a bubble of protection, considering the scene around them. When I say bubble, I mean it. A woman right across the street from their house was swept away in the torrent during the storm. 

The next morning, once we were reassured that my in-laws were fine, we ventured out to see if we could lend a hand; cutting roads open, offering supplies, literally whatever was needed. We were fresh and ready to work and we found fire and rescue departments already exhausted. We were directed to a doctor at a Burnsville clinic, that directed us to a newly established shelter. My buddy had his medical credentials so this seemed like a logical option. We arrived to a bustling elementary school and the head nurse suggested that we grab a few other nurses waiting for an assignment and head to the Cane River Middle School next door to set up a second field clinic, as a shelter for geriatric care needed to be established. Now, as a team of 4, we quickly worked to turn a teacher's lounge into a triage and an adjacent classroom into an examination room. All was set up, right when the Red Cross showed up and took over from there. 

We decided to stay as a unit, and left the middle school and went back to the Burnsville Fire Department for further instructions. Because they had a clinic established, still trying to source needed supplies, the four of us were sent to the West Yancy Fire and Rescue to offer combined skills. We were told to return the next morning to be put on assignment to head to Ramseytown, an area that was hard hit and still getting dug out from the storm. We brought enough gear and medical supplies to solve any challenges we might come across, and a Starlink to provide access with the outside world. 

One thing to understand about this situation: these mountains are steep and the hollers are deep. Cell service was already hard to get out here. With all the towers damaged, most of WNC was in a complete blackout. CBs were ineffective between valleys. Of course, the household internet and electricity were down. Starlinks and a little power source would allow the people in this little hamlet to contact their loved ones desperately trying to reach them. It would allow the medic team to call in supplies and have the injured airlifted out. 

We were placed with a fleet of 4x4, side by side drivers and headed out early that morning after a briefing of what to expect and protocols for the mission. We were also accompanied by cadaver dogs, as bodies were slowly being reported and recovered. Our instructions were to enter the community of Little Creek, that had been isolated for 5 days now, and go house-to-house doing wellness checks. Find out the needs, medications, and send a medical team if and issues arise. Each of us grabbed our gear and partnered with a driver. 

A local crew of excavators was tirelessly working on a makeshift road, wedged between the (now) peaceful river and the water-etched cliff. It was more of a path than a road, and not much more than the Polaris Raptors we were on would have made it across at that point. 

I grew up in Beaufort, SC and hurricanes were a part of my childhood. Neighbors always talked about seeing the eye of Hurricane David, when I was a baby, and I will never forget Hugo and the devastation it left Charleston in 1989. I was 12 and my father and I weaved our way into Charleston 2 days later to check on my grandparents. Ships in the road, pluff mud in the streets. Twisted live oaks that had seen this before. Helene was a different kind of storm. The 30+ inches of rain that fell in these mountains, after a week of soaking rain, created a recipe for absolute destruction. The water had nowhere to go, but be funneled into the once protected valleys. Seeps turned into creeks. Creeks turned into rivers, and rivers became the stuff of myth. 

What used to be a bucolic scene of a river mountain paradise was now reduced to a dramatic hellscape. The bridge across the Cane River was collapsed, part of it missing. Where quaint houses and stores used to stand, only shadows of foundations were left. From the washout, the Cane River had doubled in width, taking out both roads, on either sides of the bank and exposing incredible boulders and bedrock. What roads remained were covered in the finest silt, that, when airborne, created a health hazard without a mask. Trees, ripped from the soil, roots and all, protruded from the mud in large heaps, some with leaves still green and fresh. Tangles of cars and roots were strewn about, toppled over and half buried, making it difficult to determine if the owners were still in them. There was also the smell of death. 

The Ramseytown Fire Department had been completely submerged in the flood. A firetruck was missing. When the water rose over the truck in the building, the firefighters had to cut a hole in the roof of the building and ride out the storm on the roof, in the elements, praying that the building didn't get washed out from underneath them. Miraculously, they survived. 

We made our way to the community of Little Creek as a ragtag convoy of 4x4s, and up to the highest point the road would go. From there, 2 teams were established; one to take the left side, one to take the right. We were to knock on all the doors for wellness checks, never enter the homes, but make that first contact and record all needs and conditions on paper to refer to later. Despite the forewarnings to be wary of who might be on the other side of those doors, everyone who answered was overjoyed to see an unfamiliar face. There were tears of thankfulness, hugs of gratitude, and it was apparent that, between the storm and the isolation, there was a collective trauma within this sweet community. At the same time, folks were looking after one another. Everyone had tabs on which houses were empty and those we should be concerned about. Our team checked on over 200 residents without incident, gathering medication and food/water needs. 

As we made it back alongside the river, neighbors were beginning to organize the new distribution center and agreed that half of it should be transported to Little Creek in the event the new road washes out again. The other half would go to a church down the road where a field medical clinic and Starlink could also be established. As we loaded the trailers and more people came around to help, I heard an old-timer say, "You know, something like this needed to happen so that we could know our neighbors again." 

So much from the aftermath of Helene is uncovering deep truths. I am seeing the beauty of a culture I love so much. I am seeing the realities of a climate changing in real time. There are thousands of heartbreaking, traumatic and devastating stories coming from the events of Helene and its aftermath. There's also thousands of stories of resilience, heroism, community, and miracle rising from the destruction. 

This might be the beginning of Appalachia's Great Uncovering and I invite you to lend a hand and volunteer your time, give a donation to a worthy cause, and please don't forget about the people of these mountains. 

Mr. Rogers used to say, after a disaster, look for the helpers. 

PLEASE BE A HELPER! 

America is already turning away to pay attention to the next thing and winter is clearly setting in early. Just like the freshly unveiled rocks in the Cane River, a lot of things are going to be exposed from Helene. Let's take this apocalyptic moment and makes notes so that the next time we're about to get punched in the face, we weave and put up our gloves. 

We're all in this together.

David

PS (from Hannah)- If you would like to send monetary donations to help the devastated areas of Western NC, please message me back and I will send you links to people and places we recommend. 

Also, if you are longing for healing community right now, please consider joining the Vitality Circle. Doors close at the end of October. Reply to this email and let me know you are interested in learning more. Evolutionary community is more vital now. We traverse this time together.

If you find this blog helpful or inspirational, please consider sharing it with a friend. Thank you!